


The Price of Survival

by Caro Dee (Caro_Dee)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV First Person, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_Dee/pseuds/Caro%20Dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim plans for a future he hopes will never arrive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Sentinel Angst List in 2004. This story is based on the sentinels needing guides trope. This is the gen version and later on I wrote a slash version called The Tightrope Walker.

I get into the truck and just sit there, staring unseeing out over the hospital parking lot.

Simon threw me out. "For God's sake, Jim, go home! Get something to eat. Take a shower. Get some rest. Sandburg would give me hell if he knew I let you exhaust yourself while he was recuperating."

Recuperating. Blair's going to make it. He isn't going to die. My breathing is coming too fast and I can see that my hands are shaking on the wheel. It was close this time. The doctors weren't sure he would survive the night. But Blair pulled through and they're pretty optimistic now. But it's early evening and he hasn't regained consciousness yet.

I take one hand off the steering wheel to rub at the ache in my chest. I was terrified this was it. That the Sandburg luck had finally run out. But Blair's a stubborn S.O.B. and he isn't ready to leave me yet. I am... God, I am so grateful. Losing Blair....

Shit! I scrub at my eyes angrily. Okay. I take a deep breath and pull myself together. Okay. I have things to do. Then I can go home and rest, until it's time to be with Blair again.

I run through my options, already knowing which one I'll choose. I do have my favorite among them. I start up the truck and pull out of the parking lot headed towards the trendy part of Cascade where the artists and the hip congregate.

It's after seven so I'm pretty sure Sarah is home. Sure enough, when I get there I can hear the strains of her viola. Sarah's a musician for the Cascade symphony. I roll the window down and lean back, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of her practicing. She stops and starts, swears to herself, murmurs with pleasure when something works. It's pleasant and soothing and I feel the strain of the past eighteen hours seep away until I'm almost falling asleep.

I'm a little disappointed that I'm too late for the early evening walk and too early for the bedtime walk. I'm too tired to get out of the truck but just seeing her walk by would have been nice. Every couple of months, I go jogging at the park near here and manage to casually run into her and her dog, Golda. I'll stop and talk with her. We're drawn to each other, of course. If I asked her out, I'm pretty sure she'd say yes. But I'm careful to keep it friendly but casual. Blair met her once and his reaction was to bristle and shove between us. I'm not sure he even realized he was doing it.

The next time we met, Sarah diplomatically managed to ask if he was my boyfriend. I let her know that he was my partner and best friend and that we both dated women. She looked pleased at the news, which meant that I had to make myself scarce for a while. The next time I ran into her, she was still happy to see me but with an underlying reserve. Which was fine by me. There's no room for her in my life right now and I hope there never will be.

There are others. There's Jorge, who works at a hospice with the dying, and would be my second choice. Ben who works at a small, independent bookstore near Rainier. An older woman, Jane, who does office work and volunteers weekends at a woman's shelter. Last and least, there's Brad, who's a bartender and more of an operator than Blair will ever be, but he knows how to listen to the customers and it helps.

None of them are Blair. But if I'd never met him....

If Blair dies, I'll probably die too. I know that and I can almost welcome it. The grief, the emptiness will be devastating. But if there's even a chance that I won't die, that I'll keep on breathing day after day, then I _need_ to know that I won't go insane from the senses, that I won't live out my life in some institution. That I can pick up the pieces, no matter how much it hurts, and go on with my life.

With my new guide.


End file.
